This afternoon, I’ll be trekking down to Shelf Road for a weekend of camping and rock climbing with my bossmen and a few others. This is rather exciting, as I’ve done neither of those activities in yonks. It’s also a bit depressing as I realize just how many yonks it’s been.
Based on the evidence, I haven’t touched a real rock while wearing a climbing harness in this century. In fact I’ve only climbed on the indoor fake stuff the once since I’ve moved to Colorado. Climbing was part of the “why” of moving to Colorado at the time of that decision. Funny how things work out, eh? A large part of it is having people with whom to actually do things. I suppose I didn’t realize how lucky I was to have developed the network of like-minded and tolerable people I had back in Massachusetts. Thanks, gang!
Then there the camping. I unpacked my tent to make sure it hadn’t dissolved completely over the years and found bits of bark and moss from a camping trip I took in New England with Miracle Ed and Hanh something like ten years ago. Good goddamn!
It’s all a bit conflicting, to be honest, because I can’t say I’ve missed it all as much as I would have expected. I’ve found other things to do at times. Mostly I’m just kind of lazy, I think. Or at least I tend to have a lot of inertia when I’m comfortable. That’s a nice way of saying “lazy”…
Also, snakes. 
…
Unrelated: Holy crap! I totally watched The Master back in the day!
Meta: I wanted to add my shared items from Google Reader to the new secondary sidebar, but it didn’t work properly. I might keep trying.
Romeo & Juliet would have had issues much like these kids, I’d think.
That John Croghan kid sure puts on a good show. Like, for real.
As The Wife put it, “He plays country music I don’t mind!”
Worth noting are the “Face Melting” covers* featured last night: “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “Six Days on the Road” (which I know as a Taj Mahal jam).
* Not featured last night was my own request for “More Than Words”.
The Excuse: “The band didn’t have time to learn it.”
The Wife’s reaction: “There’s no band in that song!!”
The Aggrolites rocked it last night. I definitely recommend you catch them if they come to your neck of the woods. (Boston kids, that’s April 15 for you.)
The opening acts were The Haggardies, a local Goldfinger clone with songs about skateboarding and stuff (meh), and Synthetic Elements who are like a poor man’s Streetlight Manifesto and plenty of fun to watch on stage.
As is typical with these very small shows, the headliners were miles above the opening acts. The highlight was the encore, during which Jesse and the boys did a reggae / ska / two-tone / dancehall / soul medley that had us all singing along at the tops of our lungs.
Good times.
Supposedly, that’s Irish Gaelic (which I’m allowed to rock thanks to my 13th century Kilpatrick heritage, yo)…
So, yeah, it’s St. Patrick’s Day and it’s snowing like a bitch this morning. Luckily the roads stayed mostly clear, and we didn’t get anything near the high end of the 4-8 inch predictions.
Nevertheless, I am pleased that I was able to get my celebrating out of the way this past Saturday with Brozovich at the “Lazy J Ranch” of one John Croghan. John pulls together a nice little crowd of good people, so it was an excellent laid-back time. Plus he had a keg of Guinness. Hard to go wrong there. (Hell, I didn’t even bother to check if it was carbonated or nitrogenated. No need to be rude in the man’s house.)
By the way, John is doing his country crooning thing in Olde Town Arvada on April 4 at the 12 Volt Tavern. He’s guessing he’ll go on around 10pm or so. I’m definitely going to be there. If I’m lucky, John might even sing my request.
In other music performance news, The Aggrolites are playing in Denver this Wednesday. I love those boys. We saw them open for Madness in Los Angeles a couple years ago and have since collected all of their stuff. Well worth the $13 ticket, I’m thinking. (Here are some YouTube samples for you. Oh, and The Wife’s favorite track.)
Oh, there’s also roller derby on April 5. The Wife was asking about derby last night, so we’ll probably try to hit that, I think. Derby’s always worth the $13 ticket.
That’s all I’ve got, but that’s way more than usual, so I’m fine with it.
Literally.
The Wife and I went to an actual running store and bought actual running shoes yesterday, so that we might continue our attempts at jogging with perhaps a bit less agony. Given that I haven’t called myself a “runner” since high school, and The Wife never has, we popped into our local Road Runner store to take full advantage of their know-how on the subject.
I had gone in with a strong recommendation from my mother, whose duck feet I was dubiously fortunate enough to inherit, so I told our friendly shoe salesman that I needed to try on a pair of Brooks Beasts and that my dear spouse might need a bit more help in finding the right gear since she’s a former ballerina and nobody really understands what’s going on with her feet.
Continue reading ‘New Shoes’
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